Most Ordinary Days of Our Lives
by mainekosan
Summary: Being a teenage assassin with superpowers is not always as glamurous or exciting as it sounds. Just ask Nagi. Collection of stories featuring Schwarz with Weiss in supporting roles.
1. A Conventional Day of PAIn

**A Schwarz day at the Convention**

Professional Assassins - International Convention 2000. It was an event Schuldig was impatiently looking forward to all year. The only disappointment was the location: a fancy brochure promised exotic and exciting… Tokio. If you asked Schuldig (even if you didn't he would tell you anyway) Jakuzza had some naughty videos of the convention heads. Well, he could visit beautiful foreign places any time of the year and the PAIn Con 2000 only happened once, so he wasn't complaining. Much.

He wouldn't get a lot of sympathies if he did. Crawford was happy with the arrangement because this way no money or time were wasted. Nagi was glad, or at least not-entirely-annoyed, for it saved him from having to deal with (more) 'stupid foreigners', which he disliked even more than 'stupid people'. Even Farfarello seemed fine with it; he would be deprived of new hunting grounds, but home environment promised less supervision from Crawford, since here they had most of the law enforcement bribed already.

Nagi had a bad feeling about it from the start. Even before he overheard Crawford muttering something about a 'cat-burger' (that spoiled his appetite for the day; foreigners ate such disgusting stuff). Nobody forgot anything, weather was not too hot and there were no delays. Farfarello's good mood made Nagi suspicious, however, it assured them a five meter space bubble in the middle of Tokio's busy afternoon traffic, so he was willing to ignore it. It was a bit too much luck when Schuldig decided to forgo his hideous green jacket in favour of a more subdued black leather outfit (strangely, he got even more stares this way).

Nagi was intently waiting for the disaster to strike, when it, well, did. What initially appeared to be only a minor setback blew well out of it's proportions (as things tend to do when faced with Schwarz). The guy checking the entry tickets wouldn't let Schuldig in. This in itself wouldn't exactly qualify as a bad thing per-se by Nagi's definition. Actually it was very amusing to watch the telepath fume and glare, but that was the last drop of proverbial goodness that broke the ailing chicken's back. Nagi was having _fun_ and that meant there would be hell to pay for later (and likely not by Crawford who had connections there).

The day already _had_ turned horrible for Schuldig, at exactly the moment he heard 'no, I'm sorry, I can't let you in with that ticket'. Then it only got worse. That malicious guy decided to explain the details in full hearing range of half of the attendants:

"It's only valid for active members of PAIn. You haven't killed anyone in the last year."

Schuldig blushed and tried to object.

"Rabbits don't count. And I know it was just a plush one anyway."

Nagi looked at him with those big accusing eyes. Just great, now he was in trouble with the kid, too. Damn the nosy telepaths. Oh. Well, damn the non-attractive nosy telepaths. Damn Com committee for putting them on such a lousy manual jobs that made them bitter and vindictive. That's better.

"I also have to temporarily confiscate your PAIn membership card."

Schuldig didn't know what to do first – make himself invisible to hide from shame or strangle that idiot clerk and solve his problem more constructively.

"I don't count either. It has to be someone connected to your job. We are professionals after all, not just some insane murderers. No offence to the present company. Please remove the knife from my throat or we will be forced to take your membership away, too."

Schuldig appreciated Farfarello's eagerness in trying to deal with his obstacle (even if it _was_ mostly a combination of his delicate sensibilities getting offended and general aptitude for murder), but on the other hand, that was also a part of his problem. If Farfarello wasn't so eager to get rid of all the targets before he even got to them, he wouldn't be stuck in this mess now. It was hard to compete and trying to prove himself in a team where one of the members killed all the targets even before they had the possibility became that, other could crush them without lifting a finger and the third one, well... he could shoot them. You might say, aha, Schuldig could do this too! But the trouble was he had just a slight problem with his eyesight that he wouldn't admit to anyone. He was intolerant to contact lenses and there was just no way he would stoop so low to wear corrective glasses. That was for the un-popular people. And Crawford.

The not-at-all-un-popular man in question (who would kill if someone mentioned men in glasses were not the best thing ever) got tired of being stared at for reasons less dignified than fear or envy, so he cut in to resolve the problem.

"But nobody complained last year!"

"You got in under the old rules, as a team. The rest of you, especially Mr. Farfarello, covered well for Mr. Schuldig's inadequacies. We noticed that such rules diminish productivity and encourage laziness..."

Schuldig by that time has shrunk to about Nagi's size; his voice became tiny, too: he whispered barely audibly 'but I helped too' and if the room wasn't full of the most ruthless assassins in the world hearts would be broken by the display. However, since it was, they just laughed (except for those who knew Schuldig and his celebrated sense of revenge).

Situation wasn't looking good for him, but if Rosenkreuz thought him anything it was that when you think things can't get any worse they most certainly will.

Behind them stood the whole Weiss team, wearing their best outfits and their most astonished expressions (except for Abbysinnian who looked just as gloomy as ever, but you could tell he was shocked by his glare that had slipped a bit and a sliver of pity that crept in).

"Wait, you mean, you didn't manage to kill anyone for a whole year?!"

Their accusation made Schuldig blush more (two shades of anger on top of one of shame), Farfarello chuckle and Crawford pull out his faithful Aspirine bottle. For Nagi it just confirmed that for Weiss it was indeed pure amazing luck and not any kind of reason or wisdom that kept them alive all this time.

Luck turned her back on Schuldig again. Before he could pick who to kill first one of the Con organizers came out to greet Weiss personally.

"Our most successful newcomers! I'm glad you could make it! We were so excited when you agreed to the signing, Mr. Kudou. The Calendar is selling wonderfully. Will you be available to pose for official photos later?"

Little boy inside of Crawford screamed. All the years of being the Associations cover-face and now they were replacing him with that blond flower-boy. Disgrace. No, he was bigger than that. He was above such superficialities. He had more important things to do, like plan for Balinese's painful death. Schuldig could get his kill this way. Wasn't that selfless of him?

Weiss got led away inside, but he had all the time to fix the matters. Now if they could just finally get in… This was making him late for his 'Backstabbing workshop'.

"Anyway, you can't get in with you permanent ticket. You can get a guest ticket, since you're with a group, but they must take responsibility for you."

Crawford didn't look to thrilled about that but after few well placed kicks and only couple of even better placed threats he started to feel very responsible and even offered to pay for Schuldig's extra ticket himself.

"Hey, why did you give me a pink pin !?"

"They are all like this. We use it for the visitors. The blue are only for the full members and red ones are for the lecturers."

Farfarello tried to console him:

"It looks very nicely with your hair."

He rather hoped Schuldig kept the pink "V" badge, since he was collecting them for a couple years now. He had a box full under his bed. Before he was sure "V" stood for "victims", though … Oh, well, what's a couple of letters.

After being so cruelly marked, Schuldig came to a conclusion that hiding would be his best option. Safest, too, since he was entering a space full of people who killed for a living (and had badges to prove it). Most of them would gladly use him to renew their membership for a year. What was supposed to be a wonderful day ended in a dark corner of a bar, drowning his sorrows in rows of drinks

"You'll get hyper-vitaminosis."

"Oh, it's you. Man of the hour. Crawford hates you, you know."

"That's new?"

"Yes, you didn't rate high enough to be hated before."

"What an honour."

It appeared like Youji wasn't enjoying his fame anymore. His clothes had small tears and make-up stains and he didn't know what he hated more – the fans or those who saw him as an obstacle between them and the fans (Crawford was the latter's unofficial president).

"Wouldn't alcohol be better?"

"They stopped selling it after the '98 Massacre. Alcohol and heavy weapons don't mix well."

"Oh. Was Farfarello drunk then?"

"No, of course not. He doesn't drink. His victims were, so they ran much slower."

"I think after day like this we can afford to cheat a bit."

Then Youji pulled out a hidden vodka bottle and poured a good measure into Schuldig's orange juice. Schuldig had absolutely no objections.

That would have been a start of a beautiful friendship, if Crawford hadn't seen it beforehand and came to drag Schuldig away.

All in all things turned out better than expected for Nagi. He quickly got away from the rest of Schwarz, who were too busy with themselves to notice him gone. Schuldig sulked away right after being offered a place in the "Introduction to Assassination" course that was led by one of his old team mate and the last time he'd seen Crawford he was following around Balinese, trying to prove he was better, deadlier and all around cooler (it diminished Nagi's hero-worship quite a bit). Farfarello joined Abbysinnian and Siberian after he heard they were also competing for his 'Most Creative use of a Blade' award, but he didn't know where the Weiss two went later. All he knew was Farfarello won the award for the forth time in a row _again_, after the other candidates failed to appear.

Bombay was around, too. They even talked some, or mere precisely, Tsukiyono talked and he disagreed. They decided they hated each other and even exchanged e-mails, just to be able to tell that to each other more often. Although Nagi supposed they were still on polite terms since Omi offered him umbrella when the rain began to pour and Nagi's got blown away by the wind.

In the end, Nagi decided he loved conventions after all.


	2. And Bombay Won

**_On a dark stormy night..._**

_VICENIGHT: i can't let you get away with that_

_IH8UALL: and what will you do_

_VICENIGHT: deathmatch, tonight, midnight, you know the place; we'll settle this once and for all, man to man_

_IH8UALL: so you're bringing the gigolo_

_VICENIGHT: ... no. I meant..._

_IH8UALL: Yes, Stupid, i was trying to insult you, just see that you show up. If you dare._

_VICENIGHT: only one left standing, i'll fight with the destiny... Prodigy? _

_IH8UALL: -has signed out-_

_xxxxx_

Small dark-haired boy was making his way through Tokio streets. It was well past midnight and if one didn't know him, you would fear for his safety. The truth was, the boy was already returning from a fierce battle, one that had left deep scares on him. Well, he was Naoe Nagi, an extremely powerful telekinetic, so the scars were located mostly on his pride, but still ...

It started with such a simple intention - to make it on his own for once. To be victorious without the help of Schwarz. And he smashed them all to the ground, thrilled as they perished, helpless hatred and badly concealed envy of his greatness shining from their eyes.

Then he lost.

Well, almost. He "made a strategic retreat" when he knew he had run out of chances.

As he approached the doors of home his heart sank a little further. Getting in unnoticed would be difficult, especially in his current state. See, his excursion into outside world wasn't exactly permitted. At all. Not that Crawford would forbid him something like this - more like he wouldn't even consider it as an option. For a man who could see a future, Crawford was amazingly shortsighted when it came to things not directly connected to work.

Slowly he crept inside and after eaching his room's door without disturbances he believed himself to be safe. Really, he should have known. Just as he touched to door-knob someone switched on the light and Nagi realised the bad evening was about to turn horrible.

Crawford was standing in front of him, staring at the boy with a mixture of anger and several other emotions that Nagi couldn't recognize, since he has never seen them on Crawford's face before.

"It's 2AM. We have to be at Takatori's in five hours."

Poor uninformed souls wouldn't be able to deduct just how mad Crawford was from the sound of his voice, however, Nagi was a terribly bright boy. So he used the tried and proven safest course of action. After he apologized profusely for sneaking out and promised that such event won't ever occur again in the future, he ran to the safety of his room. He knew this wasn't over yet, but at the moment the only thing he wanted to do was bury his head in the pillows and sleep. He could deal with the world tomorrow.

_xxxxx_

_How fast they grow up..._

Sleep was not an option for Crawford. He decided to cool his temperament with his excellent collection of imported spirits. 500 $ worth of alcohol later it still had no effect. But that was just because he had such a high tolerance for alcohol. He never ever got drunk. Even a tiny bit. No no no. Not Crawford. He was too dignified for that. Now if the table would just stop moving... He was spilling his favourite vodka all over the floor. He was just considering licking it off when Schuldig appeared at the living room door.

"Stop already. I can't sleep with all the noise."

Crawford picked himself up again. He didn't like the look he was getting from the telepath. Where has all the respect gone - first the child and now Schuldig... He tried to straighten himself to get a couple of extra inches of heigth advantage. It didn't seem to work, so he slumped again (much more comfortable) and even managed to hit the chair on his way down. How could Schuldig be so cold? But then, it was't _his_ control running away faster than Schuldig's pay checks...

"He is going wild, the kid," he tried to explain to Schuldig. "He was so perfect, obeyed every order with a smile on his little obediant face and bowed, Schuldig, he bowed and now ..."

"No he didn't. Not to anyone he didn't stab in the back later. He learned that from you." Schuldig smiled at him. "Congratulations."

He then stepped over the broken bottle and started to collect the empty glasses from the floor.

"You've had enough of that. Let's get you to bed."

He didn't even look at Crawford as he spoke, but Crawford could guess from the tone of his voice that he wasn't devoting the appropriate attention to the situation

"He could've been damaged!"

Schuldig rolled his eyes. He could have saved it - Crawford wasn't watching his face. He was too busy trying to decide which of the Schuldig's to talk to. The one on the left looked a bit friendlier...

It was no use arguing with Brad when he was drunk. _Someone_ had to be a responsible adult. He grabbed the collar of Crawford's shirt and tried to pull him off the couch towards the bedroom. Ugh, the man was heavy. Maybe it was his personality. He didn't seem to be moving, so he tried with the convincing again.

"He can take care of himself. He came back, he's safe now."

Crawford lifted big scared eyes to the third Schuldig from the right.

"I saw him in a vision! He was fighting monsters, Schuldig! Horrible, horrible, evil monsters! Can we get one of those? I'd like a green dragon... What was I saying, yes, he was all alone, all by his tiny self against all those powerful weapons! You know superpowers get boring after a while. Just give me a biiiiiiig gun and...Why don't we have those?"

"Maybe because the ones you saw only exist in video games? But we can talk about the dragon with Masafumi tomorrow if you'd just give me the bottle. Good boy. Blue dragon it is."

"Green."

"Whatever. Now let's get you some coffee and then off to bed!"

But Crawford was already asleep. Schuldig just sighed with frustration, then fetched his favourite soft blanket (the fluorescent green one) and used it to cover his peaceful and slightly drooling friend. He was glad Nagi wasn't awake to see this disgrace. It was so tough being the only responsible and respectable person in the team.


	3. The Way We Were

**_Schwarz, before they were Schwarz and some extra Red Shirts_**

Someday they'd be the most fearsome and deadly team ever, Crawford said. Nagi wasn't feeling very hopeful at the moment. He sat apart from them, not only because they didn't appear respectable at all (not that anybody of any importance would come here, but still, better be careful than sorry), but also because they were polluting his air. The smoke was truly making him nauseous. He waved his hand again to get some of it away from him. He _could _get rid of it with the help of his gift, but that would mean he couldn't appropriately express his displeasure. Not that anyone was likely to notice. This group of people was slowly killing the last shreds of Nagi's hope in human decency on daily basis, so he wasn't holding his breath. He coughed. Maybe he should've been holding his breath after all.

"And then," Crawford continued: "We'll rule the world and made it into everything we want it to be!"

Same old, same old, but it still had some of the effect on the loyal little minions around him. Fortune-tellers knew how to pull off Drama. Nagi checked the audience. Just as he thought. He didn't know if it was Crawford 'prophetic' words or the very illegal substances they were inhaling, but it worked even now after hearing it in one or another form for probably a thousand's time. Ingo was looking at Crawford like he was just promised the World (which he was), Kruger seemed to be already planning for the future of even more mayhem and if Nagi knew anything (which he so did and had the saved data and certificates to prove it), Christian was just deciding whether to eventually pronounce himself a King or perhaps an Emperor. Nagi would suggest he chose 'The Queen' but Crawford might object, since he would surely claim the 'King of the World' title and he really did deserve better. Nagi, himself, would of course become the Great Grey Eminence, the formidable power behind the throne. As always. It would still include baby-sitting illustrious leaders, but at least he would get paid for it.

"Hey, Shrimp, go get us another round!"

And he wouldn't have to fetch drinks. Nagi glared at Christian and since this was his usual expression it went unnoticed. Chris was easily the one of the three idiots he despised the most. Sometimes he wanted to push his long pointy nose right into his ever-mocking face, but Crawford told him not to. Repeatedly.

"Beer for me and Craw, Schnapps for Kruger and that fairy water for the Blondie."

Nagi prepared himself for Ingo's standard screaming fit (he could yell even louder than Christian, even if the latter was helped by his 'special' abilities), but it looked like he was too gone to notice anything but the joint he was sharing with Crawford. He could just push a little… Nah, it wasn't worth the punishment. For some insane reason Christian was the Leader's favourite, so his face had to stay exactly as it was even if intervention would be an improvement (according to Nagi, and he was naturally always right).

He filtered his annoyance into slight push of the air that knocked away anyone standing between him and the bar. The crowd was too drunk to mind. Christian Leugner would get what he deserved when the proper time came, anyway. Sooner rather than later. Crawford told him so himself in one of their private conversation, when there were just two ofthem, the adults, and for once, he believed him. Maybe because it was what he wanted to hear. Right, so Crawford didn't exactly specify the name of the one who would die that horrible and messy death. But Christian was by far the most obvious choice.

Nagi knew he himself would be one of the new four-man team, after Crawford, of course, so counting the leader that only left one space to fill. Crawford said one of the remaining two would leave to serve in another cell and the last one wouldn't survive the month. And Nagi knew Crawford could change the future if it didn't please him, so he would have changed it if it was Kruger or Ingo dying, wouldn't he? Since Crawford sort-of like them, Nagi doubted they were the intended casualty. The resident pre-cognitive had found Nagi and the other two himself: Nagi in the alley in Tokio (robbing a businessman), Ingo on the runway of Milan (or more likely under a bar table in Milan) and Kruger playing cards in a pro poker tournament in Vegas. So Christian, chosen by their leader Mehrwert without Crawford's intervention, was obviously the odd-man out and fit to go under.

Right, something German for Crawford, something American for Christian (ha, that'll show him), the hard stuff for Kruger and Evian for Ingo (it looked like The Curse of The Scale struck again). He also stole some orange juice for himself. No way was he touching any alcohol, not after witnessing what it did to perfectly reasonable sociopaths. Reasonable sociopaths being Crawford and Kruger in this case; Christian wasn't ever reasonable and Ingo, bless his deficient blond little model mind, actually improved under influence, but he was odd like that.

Ha hated being made to watch over the imbeciles while they were getting sloshed and he hated the looks he was getting from the other patrons. What, never seen a ten year old before?! But most of all he hated that tey picked such a loud pub this time.

Yeah, yeah, he knew, the more noise, the better, but it wasn't as if Herr Mehrwert was likely to listen in. Sure, the directives allowed him to spy on his subordinates (demanded it of him, as a matter of fact). It was the only reason Rosenkreuz would let a stupid _telephonic _of all things lead a team in this day and age. But it was also true that his rather useless special power made sure that any amount of noise caused him terrible headaches, so on a Saturday night he was usually a half way to coma (with generous help of overweigth whale-strength sleeping pills).

But with luck being what it was (Christian'_s mother), _he'd be awake just this time and diligently listening in on their plans. The very dangerous plans to cut Rosenkreuz promotions-related red tape in a rather revolutionary way. Heh. So to speak. That'd be bad for all the significant people involved, namely Nagi. And Crawford, since he was Nagi's 'Older Brother'.

When he returned to the table he could see Crawford in the middle of another one of his endless lectures. The man could talk and talk and talk forever. Nagi wasn't sure if he though his plans were really that important or if he was just that fond of his own voice. At least there was one good consequence – Christian didn't dare to interrupt him and it was so clear it frustrated him to no end. He _had _to be the centre of the attention or he faded and shrunk. Nagi would've preferred if they had just let him at home, but Crawford always said, 'Keep your enemies close…'. Nagi snorted. Crawford must've reeeealy hated Ingo right now, since he was gaily snoring on his shoulder, blond hair spilling all over Crawford's arm. Crawford followed Nagi's look and pried the still burning butt out of Ingo's clenched fingers. The latter mumbled in his sleep and slowly slid down the booth seat, as perfect image of a drooling angel as ever.

Moments like these were the only time were the only time when Nagi believed people used to pay real money to take pictures of their Ingo. The rest of the time he looked like he was born and bred for mindless violence and harmful international intrigues of the underground. Then again, considering his mother, he most likely was. Nagi had heard about her from the others and the woman was supposed to scare even the Rosenkreuz superiors (before they had her die of a hear attack, courtesy of bio-kinetics of the recruiting department). Well, she was a cruel woman; Nagi had seen the tapes of that diaper commercial and now completely understood Ingo's pink-elephant-phobia. It was no wonder Ingo had grown up into somehow unbalanced man. He seemed to be glad to be rid of her, anyway.

Nagi looked away from the blond mess beside him and over to the guy across. _He_ was much more like someone you would expect on TV or in a magazine. Well, if they shot in black and white, anyway. Colours on him could get a little painful at times (but he still preferred that to all the tacky red shirts Leugner wore). He used his looks to his advantage, but never had to depend on them like Ingo. The beautiful outside was coupled with a dark interior and a wicked mind that fed on destruction. Kruger's acquisition was also much less violent, which was funny considering the guy's temper.

Crawford had won him at cards. Kruger liked to brag some times that he played with the devil and lost his soul in the process. He didn't seem to be at all bothered by it, even after he discovered that Crawford had, of course, cheated. He was addicted to the trouble they made, the more bloody the better. As long as there was pain and suffering (for others), he was happy and almost pleasant. Nagi quite liked him. As much as it was possible to like a human being that wasn't himself. Or maybe Crawford. Not that he'd let the pompous bastard know that, his ego was bigger than a planet already.

So he feared a bit for Kruger. Sure, he was a sneaky killing machine, but so far, after all the expensive tests (Crawford told him the amount in dollars and yen to emphasize the importance of the sum), he was still classified as entirely regular human. No special abilities at all (if you didn't count the extremely high tolerance for alcohol). Not that they were expecting him to be someone of Crawford's rank, or Nagi's own, even. And sometimes a plain old psycho-path just didn't count and upcoming interview (_read: inquisition and some recreational torture_) in front of the Rosenkreuz review and promotions board was one of those occasions.

Even wastes of space like Ingo and Christian had some minor talents. Nagi wasn't entirely sure that they were strong enough to rate a field team, but he wasn't about to complain about Ingo. He couldn't aim a gun to save his life, or kill anyone with any method that wasn't poisoning, but he was mildly entertaining, looked good on promotional material for the Assassin's Monthly and made decent coffee. Christian drastically lacked all of those qualities. He was annoying, hogged the spotlight (but didn't have enough patience to stand still and pose with a gun in a hundred and one different ways) and _drank _all that excellent coffee.

He really had no idea how Christian got there, and not only because it was before his time. Of course, Christian liked to tell stories (never the same way twice), but Nagi would never be naïve enough to trust anything that _that man_ said. So he turned to better resources. If you asked Kruger, he was a lower demon that got exiled from hell for being too annoying and if you asked Ingo he would claim Christian was an ex-junkie whore with collection of sexually transmitted diseases to impress any zoologist. But then, they weren't fond of him, so Nagi supposed these words could also be meant as mare insults. If you could guess from his wardrobe or vocabulary, he was a person of suspicious past indeed, but Nagi cared only for his future, specifically for the lack of his future.

"Another beer, kiddo!"

As big of a lack of the future as he could get, NOW, please and thank you. Sadly, it didn't look like anything similar to it would happen that evening, since he knew Crawford would be sober for an occasion of such importance. And at the moment, he wasn't. He didn't look awake, either. Even _Kruger_ would never dare to pelt him with peanuts if he was. These were supposed to be his role models. Adults he could learn from. Right. He snatched the peanut bowl away and poured the remains of Ingo's Evian on the sorry bunch. That seemed to wake them and he was glad for his quick reflexes and his superb shielding capabilities. Ups, maybe not such a minor talents after all. They'd better leave before someone demanded an explanation for a burned chair…

xxxxx

_Thirteen days later_

"So, you're saying Leugner accidentally fell under a train?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Two times?"

Nobody's perfect, not even Nagi. Crawford didn't even bat an eye.

"He was very clumsy."

"Right. And Mehrwert…"

"…Tragic. I regret having to take over his duties, but I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will," replied the older chairwoman dryly. "But we still have to clear the matter of his unfortunate suicide first. You know he left a letter?"

"Yes, Mam."

"It said he couldn't live without Leugner. Actually, it said exactly that."

The tone of the senior chairman said it all, but just to make his point clearer he floated the paper in question towards Crawford. He took it, read the message and gathered all his patience, past and present, not to hit the stupid lazy bastard Ingwer on the head. It said: 'I can't live without Leugner. If you want more, ask Crawford." That's what you got when you counted on others to do a job…

"Do you have anything to add, Crawford? No? Kruger? Schumann? Very well. Accidents do happen and we must learn to live with them. You may leave."

It's not that the Board wasn't suspicious. Or knew exactly how the tragic accidents in question happened. However, the two in question were dead anyway and they weren't much of a talent in the first place. Come on, who needed a telephonic these days? Besides, getting them removed showed a nice incentive and good planning skills. All valuable traits. But it also meant they had to watch them carefully. It wouldn't do for them to become too powerful. Better to separate the two culprits and put Kruger into another team… For a while they debated relocating Schumann, too, but nobody actually believed he had anything to do with the conspiracy. Come on, it was _Ingwer._ He couldn't possibly be guilty.

_Fade to Black_


End file.
